The Two of Hearts

The Shooting

A hot rain battered my window-screen as

thunder rolled overhead. I reclined upon the sofa in my parlor,

gazing out past the screen to the narrow street beyond.

Jonathan Diamond sat in an

armchair beside me, trouser-legs rolled up, his damp feet now

resting upon a towel set on a chair. His boots and socks hung by

the fireplace to dry. “The storm’s only supposed to last another

hour.”

His hands shook, just a

little. And I didn’t like the way his feet looked, discolored and

swollen. But he claimed that under the circumstances, they were

quite well. “Is there anything I might have Mary get you?”

Jon grinned over his

shoulder at me with a small shrug. “I’m wonderfully well-fed, warm,

and dry, sitting next to the most beautiful woman in the world.

What more might I need?”

My cheeks grew hot. “Since

when have you become a flatterer?”

He reached over to take my

hand, and I loved the way his dark, dark skin looked against mine.

“Never.”

We usually went out to

luncheon, Jon and I, but I’d felt unwell — not ill, mind you, but

that bleeding malady which strikes women monthly, like clockwork.

And even so, he’d dared brave scandal and defy quadrant-folk custom

to call on me.

A baby’s wail came from far

beyond the kitchen. Squeezing Jon’s hand, I scooted up to press it

to my cheek, eyes burning. “I don’t deserve such regard, Jon.”

He smiled warmly. “Of course

you do.”

My butler Blitz Spadros came

in through the door to the kitchen wearing house clothes, carrying

a tea-tray. “Care for some more?”

Our temporary housekeeper

Mrs. Crawford must still have been at luncheon. It was the first of

the month, and I’d given my lady’s maid Amelia the day off, just as

her husband and children back at Spadros Manor had. “I’ll have

some.” I swung myself around to sit up, slipping my feet into my

house shoes, which sat upon the floor. My back hurt, and my innards

ached, but the doctor had said tea was good for my health. And I

was a bit thirsty.

“No more for me,” Jon said.

“I’ve used my allotment for today.” He grinned. “Have to leave room

for my tonics.”

Jon had a heart condition,

which seemed to have worsened of late. The doctors had told him

nothing more might be done, and even last week published a treatise

upon his remarkable longevity. Yet despite his duties as Keeper of

the Court, Jonathan took life in great ease and merriment those

days, as if his ailment was merely an inconvenience. “Is your

daughter well, sir?”

Blitz let out a laugh.

“Being a newly-born babe must be a difficult matter, judging by the

heart-rending nature of her cries. Yet the doctor claims she’s

perfectly well.”

Ariana Spadros was only

dealt in six weeks before, and seldom slept. I turned to Jon. “Your

mother was an Apprentice and your grandfather an Inventor. Are you

very good at fixing things?”

Blitz said, “What is it you

need fixed?”

I unhooked the key to my

dresser from my waistband and handed it to him. “There’s what looks

like a small hatbox in my top dresser drawer. Would you bring it to

me?”

Blitz gave me a wry grin.

“As you command.”

Jon and I both burst out

laughing.

Blitz left through the door

to the front hall.

Jon said, “Did you see the

special edition news? A copy arrived just before I left to come

here.”

I shook my head.

Jon shifted to face me. “You

won’t believe what Mayor Freezout said in his speech before the

City Council today. He proposed that the Four Families should be

sent to the Prison!”

“Good gods,” I said. “Has he

lost his mind?”

“There were several

editorials asking the same thing. And that fool bill of Pike’s is

back —”

“Wait,” I said. “Doyle

Pike’s writing bills now?” At one time, Mr. Pike had been my

lawyer, until he tried blackmailing me.

“No, the young one. Thrace,

I believe? The one with the District Attorney’s office. He wants to

make refusing to speak with the police a felony offense, rather

than a fined misdemeanor.”

I scoffed. “No one should be

forced to speak with anyone, least of all one of those

scoundrels.”

Jon leaned back. “At least

the Council’s got some sense.”

The City Council had kept

Freezout from going to outsiders for help about the train crisis.

The trains seemed to be in perfect order once again, which was

reassuring. But there’d been rumors that Freezout still wanted

outside laborers in to help with the continual power outages.

I never understood why Mayor

Freezout would want outsiders involved with the city’s repair. The

only thing I might imagine was that bringing those people in would

shame the Families somehow.

But with the Feds looking

for any excuse to take the city, his actions endangered us all.

Blitz returned with my

magnification spyglass case in his hand, peering at it. “What’s

this?”

I rose, taking it from him,

then sat, taking out the spyglass. “It opens up, you see? Then when

you look through it, small items are magnified.” But it wobbled

loosely these days, rather than opening straight. I’d paid a great

deal for it, and it seemed more prudent to have it repaired rather

than try to find another.

The sound of a carriage came

clattering through the rain, which seemed odd. Our street was

really too narrow to drive fast like that.

In the midst of handing my

spyglass back to Blitz, he looked past me, eyes wide. “Get

down!”

Jonathan lunged, knocking me

to the floor. The spyglass hit the table, pieces of brass flying.

The rat-ta-tat-tat of the Tommy gun sent bullets through my metal

window-screen and into the room as glass shattered around us. The

sound of the carriage continued on past through pouring rain and

the angry shouts of men.

Jon lay atop me, face

flushed, his dark eyes wide. “Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so.” I felt,

if anything, a bit squashed. “And you?”

His face was quite close to

mine. “I don’t think I am.”

I felt a bit flustered.

“That’s twice now you’ve saved me.”

Blitz came round then,

pulling Jon to his feet.

Jon rubbed his side. “The

table seems to have won this round.”

The last time he’d tangled

with my table, he’d been left with a huge gash in his side. I

clambered to my feet, glass crunching beneath my house shoes, and

opened his jacket.

Jon smiled. “I told you I

wasn’t hurt.”

Eyes stinging, I threw my

arms round him. “Oh, gods, Jon, if anything were to happen to you

—” I felt his arm warm round me. He smelled good. I relaxed into

his embrace, eyes closed, feeling safe.

How long had it been since

anyone held me?

Blitz cleared his throat.

“Mrs. Spadros —”

I let go of Jon, really

looked at him. He’d drawn back, unsteady, shaken. “I’m sorry, Jon.

You look as if you need a chair. Blitz, help Master Diamond to the

kitchen.”

My temporary housekeeper

Mrs. Claudete Crawford rushed into the room from the hall. The

ancient brown woman’s eyes widened when she saw the damage. “Dealer

preserve us.” Then she looked at me and curtsied low. “My Lady, are

you well?”

“So far.” The rain had

subsided, but we needed to take care of matters before my sofa was

ruined. “Go to Mary and let her know we’re all safe. Then the

broom, if you please. Oh, and Blitz, after you send word to Master

Jonathan’s men, find a hammer, nails, and some blankets. We have to

cover these windows until it stops raining or Mr. Howell’s men

arrive.”

Mr. Eight Howell was the

Family man for our street. I imagined he’d not be in a good humor

at a carriage of scoundrels shooting up the place.

By the time Mr. Howell and his men arrived,

the rain had slowed, and Mrs. Crawford, Blitz, and I had done a

fair job of cleaning.

Mr. Howell wasn’t too much

taller than me, a pale man with a big bushy beard. “We stopped the

bastards before they might clear the street.” He scowled so

fiercely that for an instant, I almost felt sorry for them. “We

gotta take care of this before the police show up.” He gestured to

his men. “Start with the walls.”

At once, the men searched

the walls in the hall and front rooms for bullets. Fortunately,

they got the last one out just as the police arrived.

When I opened the door, the

rain had turned to gentle mist. “Thank you so much for visiting.

How may I help?”

The young Constable scanned

the outer wall, the window-screens. “What’s gone on here?”

“I really couldn’t say, sir.

Some children with rocks, I imagine.”

He began to laugh. Then he

quickly recovered, pointing at the bullet holes piercing my thick

door. “You want me to believe

rocks

did this?”

Blitz came up behind me.

“Sir, this is the Lady of Spadros —”

The young man blanched, and

he doffed his hat, bowing. “My apologies, mum —”

His partner, a man barely

out of boyhood, stood frozen in terror on the sidewalk beyond.

“— so if she says it’s

rocks, it’s rocks.” He handed the man a dollar bill. “Most likely

done by boys with slingshots. Got it?”

He gaped at the dollar. Then

he glanced at the Family men around him. “Thank you, sir. You’re

too generous, sir.” He bowed to me again. “Mum.” The pair made a

hasty retreat.

I turned to Blitz. “Did you

have to give them a whole week’s pay?” It was what I got from Tony

to live on for a whole month.

Blitz shrugged. “I don’t

like scrabbling around for pennies.”

Chuckling, I returned

inside, Blitz following. Men were in my bedroom and the parlor,

clearing the last of the glass from the frames to put new panes

in.

Ever since I’d returned from

the meeting with Cesare Diamond two months back, the Family men for

my street had been particularly generous. I believe my cooperation

in the matter improved the way Roy Spadros, our quadrant’s

Patriarch, now viewed me.

Of course, I’d not seen the

man since then — he’d been somewhat occupied, if the papers spoke

true.

For the past two months,

massive negotiations had been underway between the Spadros and

Diamond Families.

As a result, the South River

between Spadros and Diamond was being dredged — which it sorely

needed — to locate any remains that might still be there. People on

both sides who’d lost friends and family in the first

Diamond-Spadros War lined up for miles at various locations to be

interviewed.

The process looked likely to

take years to fully sort through. It was good for jobs, though,

which pleased many, especially in the slums.

Jonathan sat at the kitchen

table, still barefoot, sifting through the lenses and bits of brass

now lying upon an old sheet of newspaper. “I think all the pieces

are here.” He looked up at me. “But this is delicate work. A

watchmaker might be able to repair it, but I doubt I can.”

I went round to sit beside

Jon, facing the door to the parlor. “I should have asked Mr. Howell

who the men were.”

Jon raised his eyebrows.

“That shot at us?” He let out a laugh. “I’m sure they’ll figure it

out eventually.” His head turned towards Blitz, making a quick

movement to the left.

Blitz said, “I’ll see if

your boots are dry yet.”

As the kitchen door opened,

daylight blazed into the room as a few men hoisted a window glass

into place.

I gazed fondly at the pieces

of my spyglass. It looked as though some of the pins holding the

pieces in place had broken. “You remember when we went to buy

this?”

Jon said, “There’s something

I wish to speak with you about.”

“Oh?”

Jon slid the pieces of brass

towards the center of the table and rested his arms upon it.

“You’re not safe here.” He ran a hand over his face, the back of

his neck. “This only proves it.”

I shrugged. “We don’t know

this was about me. It could have just as well been aimed at

you.”

Jon stared at the table.

“I’ve thought about this, Jacqui. The only way you’ll be able to

live in safety is to return to Spadros Manor.”

Spadros Manor. It seemed my

entire life’s effort had been to leave that place. And now to

return?

“My sister told me what you

said to her at our Country House —”

Our enemies now know

where you are. And they know my husband values you above all else.

The longer you and my husband stay apart, the more you become a

knife to his throat. Please, for his sake, for your son’s sake,

take Roland and go to him.

“— and it sincerely

distressed her.”

I felt somber, grieved. “I

never meant to do so. Your people are so different, it seems like

I’m in another city.”

Jon tensed up, just a bit.

“My people?”

I’d grown up in the Pot, and

though it seemed they no longer wanted me there, I felt I’d never

truly left them. “You know ... quadrant-folk.”

Jonathan smiled to himself,

relaxing. But underneath his smile lay sadness. “Your husband told

me you thought he sent you off to die.”

I did say so — I won’t deny

it.

“Jacqui, there’s something

you need to understand. Tony did fear for Gardena’s life. But when

he stops his agitation and thinks calmly, he knows we would do

anything to protect her. His main and very reasonable fear was for

his son. How can you fault him, when he had to choose between his

wife’s safety and that of his child?”

I snorted, feeling bitter.

“And of course

I

was expendable —”

“No! It’s killing him to

know you think so. What choice did he have? Besides, if anyone

could ensure Roland’s safety it would be you. The boy knew you,

trusted you. And Tony believed you cared for the boy. Yet if he

misjudged you, he knew you’d die before letting harm come to any

child, even your husband’s bastard.” Jon bowed his head. “Tony’s

done nothing but try to help you, Jacqui. In spite of all you’ve

done, I believe he still loves you.”

My eyes stung; I didn’t know

what to say. Tony trusted me with his son’s life? “I misjudged

him.”

Jon clasped his hands

together and swallowed, eyes still upon the table. “All he wants is

for you to return home.”

But it wasn’t my home. It

never had been. I felt shaky. “I don’t know, Jon.”

He rested his hand on mine.

“I need you to be settled.” He sounded weary. “I don’t know how

much longer I can keep on like this.”

I whispered, “That’s so

unfair.”

“Perhaps it is. But I must

speak the truth.” He withdrew his hand and shook his head, eyes

still on the table. “All I’ve ever wanted for you was to be safe,

and loved, and happy. You can find that there.”

I bit my lip, blinking back

tears. I felt loved here, and I’d been happy just an hour before,

so much more so than there. And even at Spadros Manor, had I ever

been safe? I pictured Tony’s father Roy hitting me. “Let me think

on it.”

Jon nodded, eyes on the

table.

I rested my hand on his. “I

will

think on it, Jon. I promise.”

He gave me a fake smile. “I

suppose that’s all I can ask for.”

The door to the back hall

opened. Mary Spadros came into the kitchen wearing a robe, her long

straight light brown hair down around her shoulders. When she saw

us, she flinched, then curtsied. “I’m so sorry, mum! I didn’t

realize you were in here.”

Jon said, “It’s all right.”

He glanced at the clock. “I must be off.”

Blitz came in at once,

carrying Jon’s boots and socks. “I have everything here for you,

sir.”

Jon scooted back a bit,

glancing at his feet. “I’ll need that towel again.” He grinned at

me. “It seems my feet water themselves now.”

And so it was: his feet were

positively moist.

Blitz knelt before him. “Let

me help you.” He dried Jon’s feet and helped him into socks and

boots.

Jon rose with some

difficulty. “Have you seen my cane?”

Mary said, “I’ll fetch

it.”

But Blitz stopped her.

“You’re not dressed, and the front hall’s full of workmen.” He left

the three of us, returning a few minutes later with Jon’s black and

silver cane. “I had someone speak with your driver to have the

carriage brought round front.”

“That’s very kind of you,”

Jon said.

Blitz said, “Not at all,

sir. It’s too far for anyone.”

The rain had stopped. We got

Jon out to his white and silver carriage, its mark of a Diamond

Heir raised in real silver upon the door. Once he climbed the few

steps, he sat heavily on the black velvet bench seat, eyes closed

for a moment.

After his footman shut the

door, I reached up through the open window to take Jon’s hand.

“I’ll consider what you said. Please don’t fret yourself on the

matter any further.”

Jon nodded. “I’ll see you

tomorrow for luncheon, then?”

“Hopefully I’ll feel well

enough to go out.”

Jon shrugged. “If not, just

send word. It’s not too terribly far here.” He turned to the

footman. “The Courthouse, if you please.”

“Right away, sir.”

I waved as Jon’s carriage

continued down the narrow street. After fishing a bit of glass from

my pocket, I lit a cigarette.

Tony had trusted me with his

son’s life.

His angry, stricken face in

the meeting room several weeks before swam before me.

How can I

trust anything you say again?

A deep voice said, “I take

it the Diamond wasn’t hurt, then?”

I turned to Mr. Howell. The

afternoon sun shone in my face; I held up my hand to shield my

eyes. “Not at all. How may I help?”

He moved a bit to my left,

out of the sun. “Thought you should see this.” He presented me with

a couple of plain white business cards. Upon them lay the stamp of

a dog, in red. One had a dirty smudge upon it.

I handed them back. “The Red

Dog Gang.”

“They didn’t put up much of

a fight, so it’s safe to say they intended on being caught.”

“Or they were a couple of

deuces,” I tapped my temple, “not given instructions on what to do

after shooting.”

Mr. Howell frowned. “They’d

send their own men to the torture?”

I took a drag from my

cigarette. Everyone knew about my father-in-law Mr. Roy Spadros and

his torture rooms. “It would fit with what we’ve seen from them

before.”

“What’d you tell the

coppers?”

I smiled to myself. “Boys

with slingshots.”

He chuckled. “We should have

this cleared up today, all but the screens. We’ll patch them for

now and order new ones.”

“I appreciate that.”

“We take care of our own,

Mrs. Spadros. Mr. Roy said to tell you that personally.”

“Did he send any other

message?”

Mr. Howell hesitated, then

shook his head. “I best get back to work.” He tipped his cap and

moved away.

“There is something you

might do, Mr. Howell.”

He faced me. “What?”

“That special edition of the

news. I shouldn’t have to learn these things from Master

Diamond.”

Mr. Howell nodded, his eyes

wary. “It won’t happen again.”

I turned to survey my home.

Men were replacing the siding below the signs upon the wall next to

my front door, which read:

Kaplan Private Investigations